A DragonLord's Loss
by Mritha
Summary: The love between a child and her father is strong. When Fodr looses his daughter to the chains of darkness, how far will he go to save her?
1. Prologue

**A Dragonlord's Loss**

**Prologue**

**August 19th –** _I have searched Castle Fallen extensively and confirmed the rumors. This place has long been abandoned; I greatly blame its location for that. It is very far north here and so cold that the snow never melts, even in summer! A bitterly cold wind blows without end, the air is never still. If I am not careful, this unforgiving place will be my end. However despite all this, I still take this stone fortress as my home. No one will disturb me here, no one will even know of my existence. Located what must be a mile out to sea; this fortress is easily defended by land. A narrow stone bridge is its only access on foot. The gate is missing, but that can be repaired. Many towers rise to the heavens, destined to hold archers for protecting against aerial attack. Portholes are the only breaks in the thick walls that protect the castle from sea and ship. Rusted cannons poke through the portholes, once providing an offensive solution against enemy ships. Castle Fallen will need serious repair and yes it is unpleasantly cold. But it will serve my purposes well._

**September 2nd – **_I now have several necromancers under my command. Some came willingly, others did not. But I am not concerned in the slightest. I have ensured their continued services; with no one to lead them and with more power on my side they would not dare defy me. I have chosen necromancers to be the bulk of my army, they are numerous, disposable, and each can command countless undead minions. Those too of which, are easily replaced._

_None of them have many undead under their command at this moment however; they were forced to stay low lest the paladins discover them and seek them out. I cannot yet risk raiding graveyards, I cannot risk being discovered. What undead they have now will have to suffice. The repairs are well underway, the cells are already completed. It is time to start hunting._

**September 13****th****- **_My first catch, a paladin, was a complete success. Taking him was easy; the fool was just like the rest of his order. Attracted to the undead I baited him with; he fell smoothly into my well laid trap.____I enjoyed watching his face when I took his heart, when I commanded his every action. I couldn't help but laugh at his horror, it was too glorious! When I held his heart, I felt his power increase my own. Just as I suspected, everything was going as planned! At least until I tried to activate Loki's Staff. It wasn't enough. I need more power! I need more people to feed on…_

**December 30****th**** – **_I have many others now. I have been careful to take people of varying classes, each powerful in their chosen profession but not known enough to cause too great of a fuss with their disappearance. I even have a pirate now! His ship, the Crimson Tide, is now anchored under the castle in port. I had to make some adjustments in that area; it was not designed for ships much bigger than small fishing boats. A surprise really, when I take into account everything else this castle has in terms of war. I ensured there would be room for three more ships of equal size to the one my pirate has, I plan to send him out to commandeer other ships. I desire to command my own fleet now, how many can claim that? I admit it was not easy or perhaps smart to enlarge the port under the castle. Much of the structural integrity may have been sacrificed by removing the rooms above and around the port, I must repair that. And maybe add a drop gate at the watery entrance… yes. I must find a way to add that as well. My power has grown exponentially since my last entry. Every heart I have taken gives me the power of its owner and yet it is not enough! Far more power than I had planned for is needed to activate the staff._

**August 11th – **_The castle is now fully fortified as I had envisioned. I have eighty seven people under my command. I have at least one of almost every class and art currently known to Lore. I have summoners of various kinds, warriors and mages, guardians and even a dragonlord! I believe the dragonlord to be the key, or more specifically, his dragon. It was only after I captured and controlled the rider that I saw a spark in the staff. I attempted to take the heart of the dragon, to control its power directly, but I quickly discovered that a dragon's will is too powerful for my spell to command. Adding in their natural attunement with magic and it simply cannot be done. If I understand the bond between a dragonlord and their lizard correctly, I must somehow weaken the rider's mental strength and the dragon will suffer and weaken as a result… possibly enough that my spells will take effect!_

**August 22nd – **_The rider gave in easily, but the dragon escaped shortly after. Seems the beast would rather leave his rider alone then suffer along with him. I apparently was wrong about the bond between a dragon and rider linked by a dragon amulet, it is nowhere near as strong and as binding as I envisioned it to be. I will attempt to try again, though it was not easy capturing the two of them and I dread attempting to take another pair. However, the only other power source would attract FAR too much attention. I have studied the eight of them well and know for certain just one would power the staff with ease, but I am far too hesitant to go after any of them._

_Though I did learn one thing from all this. Another spell I discovered was the ability to swap a person's primary element with its opposite. Unfortunately this spell is very consuming in addition to its low survival rate. Out of all the ones I tried it on, only a single possession survived. The cost is not worth the result; I have lost too many of my living possessions for something that is of little value to me since I do not favor one element over another. I have written the spell, along with my others, in the back of this journal. In the unlikely event that I need such a spell it can be easily accessed._

**January 3rd – **_I was able to capture a second dragonlord, but again no success with the dragon. He stayed with his rider, but I feel it is only out of obligation. He doesn't seem to care what happens to his rider. I won't waste my time with these two. Having them around is a nice addition to my collection, but they will not serve the purpose I need. I wish greatly that one of the Seven were still alive, I have no doubt that corrupting the rider would take the dragon down with them, and vice versa. The bond between them is deep, stretching into their very souls and chaining each to the other. I had hoped before that the dragon amulet would accomplish this as well and indeed it is similar, but it does not reach into the souls of the dragon and rider. It isn't as binding as what I need._

_Unfortunately those are rare, few dragons wish to bond so closely to their rider. The Seventh died years ago and her dragon vanished, shame that the pair did not last long. If history repeats, it will be many decades before the Eighth surfaces._

**May 15****th**** – **_Two of my necromancers have started showing signs of unrest. I confronted and… disciplined… them for their little acts. Something in their eyes told me they would eventually try again despite my actions against them. I've decided I will pretend not to notice. They are weak, even combining their powers. Whatever little scheme they try to pull off will provide a little entertainment for me before I dispose of them._

**June 1st – **_I have discovered the Eighth! I never dreamed I would see another pair again in my lifetime! The rider is a human, still a child. She will be easily manipulated. As for the dragon… the dragon is a prize worth fighting for! She is massive and just over two thousand years old so the rumors say! I can hardly contain my excitement, such power she will have! Taking them will be difficult at best, but once they are mine I can finally power Loki's Staff and then be unstoppable! The dragon was a fool to join with a human so young and weak, easily susceptible to manipulation. Her mistake is my gain._

**July 10th – **_Taking the human was easier than I had expected. On her first quest without her overprotective father I sent my dragonlord as her guide, at the time he was still trusted and unsuspected of treachery by the Order. Neither they nor my targets saw the attack coming. I sent two elemental summoners to provide a distraction below while their trusted guide betrayed them with dragons bane from above. I snatched away the girl while the dragon was stunned, then had a personal talk with the lizard to ensure her cooperation. While taking the girl's heart, I made a split second decision to change her element both to shock her into submission and to hide her identity. The last thing I needed was the Order coming here. I trust Castle Fallen to withstand a mighty siege, but I know it is no match for them. Changing someone's natural born element alignment should be impossible, I know they will not pursue her even if she looks and acts similar to the one they lost. Something happened, however, that I didn't expect. The dragon's element changed as well even though I only performed the spell on the girl. An interesting and very pleasant turn of events, now they will simply disappear, no one will think to look at the dark ones I hold now. Once the girl crumbles the dragon's power will be mine to possess._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Golden eyes watched and considered the newest recruit into the Dragonlord Order. He was young and a little naive, but showed promise and skill; Fodr suspected this young man and his gray hatchling would one day be well known and respected among the Order. He had the heroic and selfless attitude, often not seeing he was being taken advantage of in his simple acts of kindness. The wind rustled Fodr's white hair, though it was not white with age. Fodr ignored the gentle breeze and continued watching the young man, Kyle was his name, as he helped another dragonlord pick up a fallen basket of now bruised apples. A golden scaled head lowered to eye level beside Fodr. "You plan to use him, yes?"

Fodr nodded. "He is still unlearned in the ways of the Order. He will have no difficulty breaking rules he isn't aware of existing."

"More so if one of the higher ranks is the one leading him astray." The dragon agreed. "What will you do when you find them? The Order will not be as forgiving this time."

"It has been twelve years since you first asked that question. My answer has not changed."

"The answer you do not know?"

"I will figure it out when the time comes." Fodr glanced over at Tyr-Gullin, the sun dancing on his golden scales. His pearl colored horns curved down below his jaw and grew parallel to it, eventually passing his snout. "As long as I get her back, I care little for the Order's opinion." Tyr-Gullin tilted his head, unsurprised that his human mentioned only one of the missing two. There was only one he cared about. The glittering gold dragon watched as Fodr left his side and intercepted the path of Kyle and his stone hatchling.

Fodr saw the pale green eyes of the new dragonlord light up when he approached. The poor boy probably thought he was in trouble. If he agreed to fly with Fodr he probably would soon be. "Greetings, Kyle."

The young man swallowed and answered back without stutter. "Good morning, Mr. Fodr."

The white dragonlord inclined his head, signaling Kyle to walk with him. Like a little dog, a baby stone dragon scampered along behind them a little ways before jumping up, flapping his little gray wings, and landing hard on Kyle's shoulder.

He stumbled forward a few steps from the impact as the little dragon settled on his fleshy perch. Fodr hid an amused smile, pretending not to see the faint redness creeping up Kyle's neck. "Have you gotten settled in Dragonsgrasp?" He asked, attempting to put the boy at ease.

"Yes Sir."

"Have you gotten lost yet?"

"No Sir!" Then at Fodr's doubting gaze, Kyle sighed. "Only once, Sir. I had Nacure," he motioned to the dragon on his shoulder, "fly above the buildings and find the way."

"Using your assets already, I see."

"Oh Nacure isn't a possession, Sir." Kyle smiled affectionately at his little dragon and scratched him behind a horn on his head. "He is my companion and friend."

_She would have liked you, thinking of dragons like that. _Fodr thought to himself as he watched the two interacting. "As much as I am enjoying the small talk, I have a more important reason for approaching you. I need you to help me complete an assignment, one that must be taken under and completed as quickly and secretly as possible."

The look on Kyle's face told Fodr that he was shocked at being sent on such a seemingly important mission so soon, yet not at all surprised that Fodr pulled him aside for something other than idle chatter. "If I may ask, Mr. Fodr, why me? There must be other dragonlords that would do whatever you need better than I could, and the same goes for their dragons." He scratched Nacure behind the horn again. "This little boy hatched only a few months ago, I've only ridden him twice and neither was in battle."

"You are correct that there are others more qualified, but I have my own reasons for choosing you." Kyle was a nobody. Few paid attention to the new people. Fodr needed fresh eyes, a young mind to hopefully see something that he had missed. He MUST have missed something or he would have found and freed her years ago. And if something went wrong and Kyle was lost in the firefight, he would not be missed. But Fodr kept these reasons to himself.

Kyle thought only for a moment before his young, adventurous spirit took hold. "Then we accept. What needs doing, Sir?"

"Have you heard of the Black Dragonlord?"

Kyle thought back to the rumors that had been circulating in taverns and inns for several years. Each was different from the others but a common theme was that Ahtirm, Fodr's daughter and the spitting image of him, was killed along with her dragon Engdo close to twelve years ago. The elusive Black Dragonlord was the accused culprit, she and her dragon. Because Ahtirm and Engdo were the reversed names of Mritha and Odgne respectively, some believed that the two dark ones were in fact the white rising heroes of before. This wasn't a common belief though, it was impossible to change someone's natural attunement with an element, especially a dragon's. Besides, Ahtirm and Engdo would have never turned evil; the girl loved her father and those around her. She had been like a beacon of light, doing her best to bring a smile out of those around her. She usually succeeded. "I haven't heard of her outside of rumor." Kyle finally responded.

"Yes, she does exist." Fodr said, answering the question he saw in the young man's eyes. "I know where but not when her next attack will be. If we leave now and providing the wind stays at our backs, we will make it before nightfall."

Kyle glanced up in surprise. "How do you know where she will attack?"

Fodr turned his golden gaze upon the young man at his side. "Because she told me."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Thanks to the red and gold jewel around his neck, Kyle was able to temporarily grow Nacure from the little baby on his shoulder to a massive beast big enough to ride. Unfortunately, it was after dark before they arrived at the small and secluded town of Icy Falls. Fodr had forgotten how slow stone dragons were. Strong, but slow.

The sleepy town did not stay quiet for long; those not awakened by the arrival of two dragons in the midst of houses were aroused by their neighbors. Originally, Fodr wanted to wait until light to start building the town's defenses, but the winds had changed, blowing from the north and carrying the sickly scent of rotting flesh. She was coming tonight. Kyle led away everyone who could not fight while Fodr organized those that could. Both men and woman alike were scrounging around for weapons. Those that had them armed themselves with bows, daggers, and swords. The rest had to make due with pitchforks, clubs, or any other item that could be turned into a weapon.

Just as two wagons were being rolled end to end to enforce the hastily built barricade around the town, one man spotted an undead soldier emerging from the forest. At his cry of warning, most everyone with a bow shot at the single undead, many of the arrows finding their target and turning the soldier into what comically looked to be a pincushion.

Everyone's attention was fixed on the dark shadows where the undead emerged. Silence filled the townsfolk as everyone listened intently. It wasn't long before the creaking of bones and rotting leather could be heard. Fodr sat on the back of Tyr-Gullin, his heart pounding in anticipation. She would not be expecting another dragonlord, maybe this time he had a chance at capturing her.

Out of the forest flowed a handful of undead. The villagers rushed forward to meet the oncoming soldiers, but black flames poured down from the sky behind them, consuming several buildings. The black flames danced at first, then took a different shape. It dispersed into several individual pyres, then each one took the form of a darkness elemental! Mritha was using Odgne's breath to summon a disposable army of shadows in addition to the few undead who Fodr now realized were merely a distraction.

Fodr ignored the dying screams of the surrounded villagers as Tyr-Gullin leapt into the air, searching for the dark ones. A sickening crack filled the night air, followed quickly by Tyr-Gullin's pain filled roar. Glancing over, Fodr saw his dragon's white wing was being devoured by a massive black jaw. An eye half the size high as Fodr was tall gazed down at him, the light from the moon and stars making the purple slitted iris glow ominously. Fodr had forgotten just how large Odgne was.

He drew his sword, the silver blade glittering in the starlight and his armored hand wrapped tightly around the golden hilt. He curled his lip in distain of the dragon as he lashed out with his blade. But before it could taste the flesh of the darkness beast, his sword was interrupted by a black blade of the same design, its color being the only difference. Fodr glanced up, his eyes beholding the snarling black helm hiding her face. "Why are you still here, Fodr?" Mritha shouted above Tyr-Gullin's roars.

"You know why, I came for you!"

"Fool!" she snarled, visibly irate. "You were supposed to evacuate the town, not create a militia! Now those people will die!" As if on cue, a woman below screamed, then was abruptly silenced.

Fodr opened his mouth to reply but Odgne opened her jaws, freeing Tyr-Gullin. With only one wing unbroken, he fell like a stone in water, taking his rider with him.

"I see a dragon and human coming." Odgne said quietly.

"Another dragonlord? Since when does Fodr ask for help?" Mritha replied, both surprised and pleased.

"Perhaps he grows desperate. Much time has passed."

Mritha sighed. "Too much time."

Kyle watched the golden dragon fall and he gulped worriedly. "Fodr! Tyr-Gullin!" he shouted, scanning the ground and hoping for a response. He looked up and around, not seeing the black dragon or her rider.

"Look at the stars, Kyle!" Fodr's voice called from below. "Don't look at the sky!"

Taking his advice, Kyle searched the stars and saw a massive shadow moving among them.

Nacure immediately gave chase, but Odgne easily kept ahead. "I am glad stone dragons are as slow as they are strong." Odgne commented. "Their breath is annoyingly difficult to reverse." She flapped her dark violet wings forward, her tail spinning around and turning her in the opposite direction. By the time she faced her advisary, she was already moving forward to meet him. Odgne countered Nacure's stone breath with a small puff of her own, the two attacks colliding and canceling. A serrated talon lashed out and sliced Nacure's wing open as she flew past, causing him to fall to the ground in a similar manner that Tyr-Gullin had moments before.

Kyle was thrown from his dragon's back and collided hard with the ground, narrowly missing a tree. He stood on shaky feet. This was only his third time dismounting a dragon and his first hitting the ground so ungraciously, something he hoped to never again duplicate. His breath came out in a fog as he brushed the dirt away from his gray armor.

"Return to the people you saved, young dragonlord." A voice called from the shadows of the forest. "You can do little good here."

Kyle whirled around and drew his sword in one smooth motion, his shield raised in defense. For the first time he saw Mritha and it was not a moment he would soon forget. She seemed so at home in the darkness surrounding her, the armor of an evolved dragonlord effectively hiding her flesh. He had never seen the rare armor up close and his eyes quickly drank in its details. The shoulder plates were shaped to resemble a curled dragon's wing, much more so than his own armor. The intersecting plates along the chest and arms were also similar to his, though far more detailed and ornate. His eyes lingered on a darker place in her black armor where the moonlight cast an odd shadow; it looked out of place with the rest of the chest plate. His eyes moved down, past the thin and flexible but very strong dark purple fishnet metal covering her upper arms, midsection, and thighs. The armor on her knees and feet reminded him of a dragon's head in full roar and dragon claws respectively. In so many ways it looked like his own armor, but, well… evolved.

"Tell me," Kyle declared boldly, attempting to look her in the eye. Her helm, designed to resemble a dragon's head in full snarl, covered her head completely. "Why has no one seen your face? What are you hiding?"

She tilted her head, considering him. "Everyone has something to hide."

Kyle stood taller, glaring into the glowing purple eyes of the teeth bared helm. "I have nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of."

"Because you are still young and untried, war has not tainted you yet. No wonder Fodr chose you, you are so trusting. Easily bought and convinced." Her fingers drummed idly on the dark purple pommel of her sword, its black tip resting gently in the ground.

Her words cut deeply into his pride and he charged, though he succeeded only in proving her words true. He expected her to block or sidestep, anything. But she merely stood unmoving as his blade pointed to her heart, back stepping only from the impact of the sword piercing the odd shadow, a breach in her armor, as if she WANTED him to succeed.

Kyle jerked his sword free in shock when she groaned in pain. He had never killed someone before! Her blood dripped from his blade and down her armor as his eyes widened in fear. He waited for her to fall; he could hear her breathing become more labored. But what scared Kyle the most, was the impossible fact that she remained standing. She wasn't dying! Mritha straightened when a large black mass shook the ground with her landing. "I see Fodr didn't tell you everything." She said as a large scaly head came down above her. "Again I am left unsurprised."

"W-what did he n-not tell me?" Kyle squeaked out as he stared wide eyed at the massive black head coming toward him.

Odgne's head was now as eye level with the little human as she could manage. "If the opportunity arises to question him, I advise you to take it." Her voice was deep yet feminine; it resonated around him like a heavy wet blanket. Having spoken, the dragon's long tail cracked around like a slow and deadly whip, slapping him in the chest and sending him flying through the air and against the tree he narrowly avoided before.

"I thought you weren't going to hurt him." Mritha commented, studying the face of the injured and unconscious dragonlord. He was young, but his face, even in forced sleep, showed strength and nobility.

"Incorrect. I said I would not kill him. He and his bond dragon will be of use to us and aid to the white one." Mritha flapped her black segmented leathery wings and nestled between Odgne's shoulder blades, kneeling on her scales and holding on to one her back spikes with an armored hand as the darkness dragon continued before taking flight herself. "Besides, I broke nothing that cannot be repaired by his dragon and amulet."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Kyle!" A voice pierced his dreams. "Kyle, wake up!"

Kyle mumbled something incoherent and shoved the heavy weight off his chest. Nacure squeaked with annoyance at being disturbed. Kyle opened his eyes to see the tired face of Fodr looking down upon him. He felt as if he were covered in bruises, he probably was. Had his armor not protected him, he would most likely have a few broken bones as well. "What happened?" He asked. "Where are they?"

"She got away."

Kyle sat up, wincing. Nacure crawled into his lap, holding his torn wing at an odd angle. Looking around, Kyle saw that only a few buildings had been damaged and that the town was very still. "Where are the people?" He felt he already knew but had to ask.

Fodr confirmed his gut feeling. "By now they are probably long dead, their souls trapped inside their decaying bodies by the necromancers she brought with her. I don't know if the ones you led away made it out, I haven't checked."

Kyle frowned. It bothered him that he was so obsessed with Mritha and Odgne that he valued other lives so little. He felt a small prickle of fear when a stray thought of wonderment entered his mind. Did Fodr value him and Nacure so little as well? The young dragonlord pushed the dark thought away as he glanced over at his sword, lying on the ground where it had fallen from his hand last night. Dried blood covered a third of the first part of the blade. "What is she, Mr. Fodr? Why didn't she die?" His mind wandered back to the conversation he shared with Mritha and Odgne last night and continued, glancing over at the elder dragonlord. "What are you not telling me?"

Fodr looked away. "Now is not the time for such matters."

"Both Nacure and Tyr-Gullin are injured; it will take several hours for their wings to heal for flight."

Fodr and Kyle stared at each other, their eyes locked. Neither was willing to give in at first, but Fodr finally relented after several moments of uncomfortable silence. This boy was proving to not be as blindly trusting as Fodr expected. "Twelve years ago…" Fodr paused and sighed, then took a deep breath and continued. "Twelve years ago, the Order sent Ahtirm on her first solo mission behind my back. She was far too young and untrained to go on a mission yet, but their excuse was that Engdo would protect her and they were sending another dragonlord, just in case." Kyle sat unmoving as Fodr paused again. "They claimed to be sending them on a scouting mission, but in truth it was just to flaunt Engdo."

"What made Engdo so important?" Kyle asked.

"Her age. It's also why she is so large. Engdo is very small for a dragon her age but still one of the biggest alive today."

"How old is she?"

Fodr shrugged. "I don't think even she knows but going by the events taking place near her hatching; I'd estimate the lower two thousand range, possibly high one thousand."

Kyle's eyes bugged. "T-two thousand?!"

"Give or take."

"No wonder the Order wanted to show her off." Kyle commented, though he privately was having trouble believing that the Dragonlord Order could be so materialistic. He wondered if the words Fodr spoke were true, or out of bias and bitterness.

Fodr scowled and nodded. "They were proud and arrogant because of it; they ignored the lying lizard's past and believed her when she said she had changed. I wasn't convinced, but that isn't a story for today."

Kyle let that sink in before asking. "What happened to Ahtirm?"

Fodr's face saddened. "She disappeared."

"How?"

"I found out after months of searching that they were ambushed. Engdo was attacked from behind with dragonsbane by the same dragonlord whose idea it was to send them on that mission and accompanied them on it. She wasn't expecting the attack from one she trusted so she wasn't prepared to defend against it. With her down, Ahtirm wasn't much of a fight. Engdo later followed her captor when she had healed enough to do so."

Nacure nuzzled Kyle's hand, his wing healing rapidly, the gashes in the thin membrane no longer as wide or long as before. Dragon magic was full of little wonders such as this. "How do you know all this?" Kyle asked.

"Someone within has been slipping me information. He knows he is being watched and isn't trusted, so he can only send fragments every now and then. I have to piece them together." Fodr sat heavily on a large rock, leaning forward in his seat and fingering the gold hilt of his sword. "Most of it was confirming a specific rumor. At first I refused to believe they were true, the things they spoke of were impossible."

Kyle felt sympathy start to grow for the older man. He looked so worn and tired, haunted even, sitting there. "Tell me, please."

Kyle waited several moments before he received his answer. "Ahtirm and Engdo are Mritha and Odgne, respectively."

"Impossible! Ahtirm could change the color of her armor and learn to use another element, but Engdo was a white and gold light dragon! Odgne is a black and purple darkness dragon!"

Fodr shook his head. "I was told the one holding their will is powerful, but I cannot fathom how he was able to pull that off."

"Wait, hold their will?" Kyle asked, confused.

"Yes… he is somehow controlling their actions, again I don't know how."

"So, last night when they attacked and killed those people, continuing the pattern they have kept in the past, they were acting against their will and wouldn't have taken lives otherwise?" Fodr nodded.

In the distance, the two men and their dragons could hear voices. "The evacuated townsfolk have returned." Tyr-Gullin announced.

Kyle breathed a sigh of relief as he stood and made his way to them. "Be quick, Kyle," Fodr said. "We need to leave soon."

Kyle frowned, confused. Why was he in such a hurry? Still, he nodded in acknowledgement and continued on his way to convey the news to the people that all their loved ones who stayed behind to fight were forever gone. _At least some have survived, not all are lost. _He thought to himself.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Mritha lay face down on a black stone table, the top half of her armor removed. She winced when a knife dug down into her back, cutting her flesh. "I told you to fixss your armor but did you lissten? No! My opinion iss never important." Pale blue eyes narrowed as he reached into the wound he created with a pair of tweezers and pulled out a tiny and very sharp piece of metal, the very tip of the sword she was stabbed with. It must have hit the back of her armor and chipped off.

"Shut up and hurry up." She grumbled back. The stone table she was laying on was ice cold, as was the air in this castle. It was always cold here and with half of her armor removed, she was struggling in vain to not shiver.

"Now now, be kind to the one who iss holding a knife to your tender back."

"You know dam well there is nothing you can't do to me that I can't return seven times worse on you."

"I don't have a lovely pair of wingss that can be ssliced off with a twitch of my wrisst."

"Try it and see what I do to you." She snarled.

Aiolos watched as the precise cut on her back healed cleanly before his eyes, the speed probably because of Odgne. He didn't reply to her comment, instead washing away the blood on her back with a damp and deliberately cold rag. Her gasp signaled his victory and he chuckled. The red liquid was washed away, revealing her pale skin previously hidden beneath. Black veins spider-webbed from her wings, spreading out from where they emerged from her spine and slowly fading beneath skin and muscle. He turned away to clean his tools while she rose, equipping her nice and warm armor. "Did they esscape?" He said softly so that only she would hear, even though the walls were thick and the door shut tightly.

"Not all of them." Mritha replied, just as quietly.

Aiolos shook his head in regret, the long white braid running down his back dancing from the movement. "How many?"

"Everyone healthy and fit enough to fight. The young, old, and sick were evacuated before I arrived. I didn't follow them."

"At leasst you ssaved ssome, Mritha." He turned to face her, leaning back against the wall. "Many children sstill have their full livess ahead of them because you continue to defy him."

"Many children are now orphans and helpless because I am too weak to resist him." She said with a regretful sigh.

"You did what you could, given the ssircumsstances. It wass up to Fodr to ssave the resst. Do not blame yoursself."

"And besides," a third voice chimed in suddenly, making Aiolos jump slightly in surprise. "Those children have their elders to watch over them and quite a few adults who could not fight but can still teach."

Mritha was unfazed by the arrival of Lich, she had long given up trying to figure out how he was able to move around like he did or know most everything that went on in this castle. Though he never did any sort of cleaning, the image of an omnipotent butler was always in the forefront of her mind when her thoughts wandered to him.

"Don't mourn the ones you were unable to save. Such feelings of futility will only drive you deeper into his hands." Mritha glanced up at him, trying to take his advice. She wondered now, as she often did, what his real name was. Ever since her capture she had only ever heard him called by what he was, a lich. "And something that might cheer you up." If there was enough skin left on his bones to smile, he would be. "I was finally able to smuggle our location into your father's hands."

Mritha stood abruptly off the table; her wing knocking over a tray of Aiolos' neatly placed surgical tools. He scurried over to pick them up, grumbling at her while he did. "He knows where we are now?!"

Lich nodded, then the remnants of his flesh twitched down into what she recognized as a frown. "I do hope he is able to see through the enchantments of this castle though."

"He is smart and no longer alone," Mritha said, defending her father. "Another dragonlord was with him at Icy Falls."

Both necromancers looked surprised. "And here I thought Fodr would alwayss be sstubborn enough to fight alone to the end of thiss." Aiolos looked up briefly while he spoke, then went back to reorganizing his surgical tools. "Thiss iss wonderful newss, Fodr now hass two new ssetss of eyess to find the fail ssafe we put in plasse."

"But can we trust the new one and his dragon?" Lich asked cautiously.

"I hope so, but either way he is involved now. " Mritha replied.

Aiolos suddenly held up a finger for silence, his head tilted to the door as if listening to the going on behind it. He scowled and Mritha and Lich heard it too. Approaching footsteps echoed through the stone hallway moments before the door swung inward, admitting entrance to a necromancer in dark gray robes, his hood hiding sandy blond hair. He gestured his dark gray staff at Mritha, the diamond acting as the focal point on the staff's head gleaming joyously. "You are being summoned."

Mritha clenched her jaw while Aiolos and Lich shared a worried look behind her back. "Careful how you flaunt that gem, Cain." Mritha warned. "I know a hungry dragon who would love to take it from your bones after she picked them clean of meat."

She saw a small flicker of fear in his eyes, but it changed quickly to smugness. "That will never happen; Surt knows I am loyal, faithful, and indesposable. If Odgne dares, BOTH of you will feel his wrath!"

He spun on his heal to leave but tripped over Mritha's stuck out foot. "WHEN I take my will back, you will be one of the first I will personally eliminate." She hissed at his sprawled out form at her feet before storming out, the talons on her armor clicking when her feet touched the stone.

Aiolos and Lich turned their backs on Cain as he scrambled to his feet, brushed off his robes and left, slamming the door behind him. "Coward." Aiolos muttered while he put away his tools, his white necromancer robes swirling around his feet from the movement of his walking.

"I'd rather have to deal with Cain then some of the others in this castle; he is almost harmless compared to them." Lich snatched a piece of used gauze from Aiolos, earning a scowl.

"Hiss wordss can ssometimess cut deeply, though." He glanced at Lich who was busy scribbling something on the gauze.

"Mritha is used to his pompous less than intelligent remarks. It is when Enroc interferes that I begin to worry." He folded the gauze and slipped it in his robes. "If Surt were smart he would tag team with Enroc to break her, it probably wouldn't take long."

"Lucky for uss, he issn't." Aiolos commented.

"Or he is and has a greater reason for not doing so, one we haven't seen yet." Lich leaned against the wooden shelf holding some of Aiolos' carefully arranged surgical tools, unknowingly bumping some out of place. "Surt could have had her and the dragon both long ago, they are both strong willed yes but this still shouldn't have taken so long. It's been twelve years for Zeuster's sake!"

Aiolos shooed him aside with an annoyed wave, fixing the tools so they were perfectly straight and aligned. "Be grateful he iss waiting then, it givess uss and chansse to act."

"I don't like not knowing why, makes me feel like we have overlooked something. Like he WANTS us to fight back."

"Perhapss he doess, for entertainment."

This answer, though plausible, did not satisfy the lich. "I want to tell Mritha and Odgne the truth, and about the others. It will give their fading moral a much needed boost."

Satisfied that the tools were finally in order, Aiolos placed the tray of the ones he used earlier on Mritha in their place, perfectly aligned with everything else on the shelf and the shelf itself. "We have been through thiss before! The less they know, they less we loosse if Ssurt breakss them. You were foolissh enough to tell her about our location being ssmuggled to her father."

Lich shook his head in disagreement. "If he breaks Mritha, he will break Odgne as well. We lose the dragon, then it will no longer matter. We will have lost our only chance at freedom."

Aiolos stared without constructive purpose at his staff leaning against the far wall. "They are not broken yet and Fodr iss getting closse. Wait just a while and if he failss again, we tell them. They will need to know there iss sstill hope."

Lich nodded slowly in reluctant agreement. "Then for all our sakes, I hope he succeeds."

"Sso do I, Lich." Aiolos said quietly as Lich left the room. "Sso do I."

Several minutes later, Lich bumped into a red haired necromantress. "Eey! Watch where ye goin'!" she scolded.

"I'm sorry, Beset, I wasn't paying attention."

"I noticed ye wasn't!" Beset continued to glare at him when he shuffled past, saving face even as her hand reached inside the pocket of her forest green robes, her pale fingers lightly brushing against a dirty piece of gauze.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Mritha stood in front of an iron door. She always hesitated when she drew near, haunted by the events that took place behind it so many years ago. Ahtirm died in there and Mritha was created to take her place. The dragonlord shivered. The door swung in and she stepped through, her wings neatly folded against her back. There was only one person in this room, no other soul did she hate more than him. "What do you want?" she snarled, not hiding her distain.

He looked up from behind his desk, setting his quill down and coming around. His dark gray and red robes swirling around his feet as he smiled at her, his smile sending a cold chill down her spine, it was snakelike and chilling. Yes she hated him, but she also greatly feared him. "Your father was waiting for you at Icy Falls; I can't help but wonder how he knew you would attack."

"It was an obvious choice," she countered. "There was no other town for miles. It guaranteed that we would make it back here with the new undead soldiers without being pursued or gaining unwanted attention."

"Perhaps." Surt replied. Agreeing but not convinced. "What did you tell him?"

"We didn't speak."

"Now now, Mritha dear. I know you can't resist talking to your _daddy_." He opened a wooden chest on the floor near his desk. Mritha felt nauseated and a cold terror form in the pit of her stomach, both knowing what was in the chest and what was coming next. Surt looked down at the many still beating hearts piled inside. He could always tell which heart belonged to which of his possessions, all he had to do was bring them in and find the heart at beat quicker than the others, the one that was beating rapidly in fear. He plucked Mritha's heart from the rest and squeezed.

She cried out in pain, clutching her chest as she sank to her knees, the pain making her unable to stand. The veins in her chest felt overloaded with too much blood, she knew from past experience that some would burst from the pressure and form a sensitive and large bruise. "Tell me what your father said to you." Surt commanded. He didn't need to hold her heart to control her; all he needed was to be in possession of it. However this way was far more entertaining.

Mritha closed her eyes in submission. She, like his other possessions, could not disobey a direct command. "He said he came to rescue me, I swear there was no more." Surt had been too specific in his command; Mritha was able to leave out what she heard him say to the young dragonlord as those words were not directed to her. Now Surt still didn't know Fodr had a companion.

"I should order you to kill him; he is becoming quite the annoyance."

"He is just one man; he doesn't even know where we are." She lied, able now since his former command had been fulfilled.

Surt looked down at the dragonlord kneeling unwillingly before him. "There were only adults in the undead you and Odgne brought back."

_Gods no… _she thought. "That is all there was in the town. We took everyone we saw."

"Did you see evidence of the town being evacuated?"

"There wasn't-"

"Answer me!" he ordered, cutting her off.

Mritha clenched her teeth, struggling to fight this losing battle. "Yes."

"Yet you didn't pursue them, why?"

"You told me once that child undead are all but useless. They are small and weak compared to the adults, so I let them go."

"Child undead, yes they are. A child is not." He reached down and tucked a finger under her chin, lifting her head to look him in the eye. "You were a child when I found you and look how well you have served me. You and that dragon."

Her mind raced, trying to think of ways to convince him to leave the remaining townsfolk alone. "I was sired and raised by warriors, these are simple villagers. Peasants. The only talent they possess is determining which worms are harmful to crops and which are not."

"I will be the judge of that… when you bring them all to me." He watched with pleasure as her face reflected horror, no doubt she was wondering if he planned to do the same to them as he had to her. "Hunt them down and bring every last person you left behind. Bring everyone alive."

"But between the long march and the cold many will not survive!" she protested.

"That is your problem, though I hope for your sake few are lost." He squeezed her heart a second time to emphasize his point. She cried out, her face twisted in pain. "Cain will go with you and report to me how many you lose; your punishment will increase with the number." He tilted his head, looking down at her. "I really don't have to remind you that if you simply gave in all this would stop."

"Never!" She hissed. "I will never give in and be a mindless pawn for your sick games!"

He laughed. "You are already my pawn, Mritha." Surt trailed a finger down her heart, earning a satisfying wince of fear. "I can feel your resolve weakening. You are getting desperate and sloppy, leaving me plenty of room to take what I want." Her fists clenched, his words eating away at her and made worse because she saw the truth in them. "Of all my current possessions you are the only one left still resisting me. I have had quite the bit of fun watching you weaken year after year, I haven't even pushed you as hard as I could have, prolonging the entertainment you gave me. Admittedly the moment you finally give in will be bittersweet because of it." He stroked her heart again with his thumb. "I will have to find another to toy with when you finally submit."

Surt turned and slowly walked back to the wooden chest, adding her beating heart to the chorus of others. Closing and locking the lid, he absentmindedly waved his hand in Mritha's direction in a suddenly bored dismissal. "You have you orders; I expect them to be carried out without delay. Now go."

Mritha stood on shaky legs, swaying slightly with her hand resting gingerly on her chest. "Your chains will not hold me forever, my freedom rapidly approaches. May the gods have mercy on your soul when it does because I sure as hell will not." The black dragonlord hissed the threat through teeth clenched in pain and fury before vanishing into the hallway, unwillingly setting out to finish what he ordered started the night before.

"I warned you," Surt muttered to the empty room. "You are getting sloppy. Not even your dragon can save you from what is coming…"


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Engdo crashed through a tree, her wing still too injured to fly. A dragon was slow and cumbersome on the ground but she could not sit idle! She felt her human child's pain as if it were her own, a dull knife wound to her chest and along with a terrible fear._

"Engdo! Please help me!" _her human child begged through their bond. The dragon felt something wrap around her little Ahtirm, chains suffocatingly tight._

"_I will not lose the last of my young!" Engdo roared, her wing sill injured but healed enough to take flight. She did so with the utmost haste._

_Now came agony flowing from their bond, an impossible change. In the long years of Engdo's life she had never felt anything like this, she didn't understand it. She felt fear now, little was unknown to the dragon and the thought that this unknown was wrapping its hungry teeth around her child was frightening. The unknown shifted, searching for all of Ahtirm and changing what it found. The unknown eventually found the last of her, a fragment of her soul nestled protectively within Engdo and woven tightly with her own soul. Like a parasitic flood, it reached through the bond the two shared, ignoring the many miles separating them, and dug its claws into their woven souls, infecting Engdo in the process. A cold shadow like the breath of an ice dragon pumped into her veins. She felt darkness come from her human child, unconsciousness brought on by pain, terror, and unbelief. Engdo was left in her ignorance of this attack; she was left to suffer alone without her human able to warn her what was coming. _

_Her flight became unstable as the pain intensified. She crashed back to Lore's hard ground, breaking through trees and slipping into a welcome unconsciousness like her human had, offering a brief respite from the pain and unfamiliar._

_An unknown amount of time passed before Engdo rose into wakefulness. Immediately she knew something was wrong with her, something had changed that shouldn't have. The light burning within her was gone, replaced instead by shadow. It was horribly disorientating. One eye slowly opened, then the other. A massive black scaled claw rested next to her head, it took her a moment to realize it was her own. Her ruby tongue flicked out as if to clean her claws, then vanished in her mouth with surprise and realization. Her glittering white scales were not covered with soot or dirt as she had previously thought; her scales were now a haunting black._

"_Good, you are finally awake." A voice addressed her. Engdo had been so consumed with confusion and fear, emotions that were rare and unwelcome to her, that she did not notice two men standing in front of her; a mage of some kind and a necromancer from the scent and sight of them. The one dressed in crimson robes, the necromancer, stood to the right and slightly behind the mage. Engdo's attention focused on the salt and pepper haired mage, knowing from their stance that he was the leader of the two. Her nostrils flared, he carried a scent of blood and magic on his robes, much unlike the scent of death and decay from the necromancer. The blood from many mingled with each other, forming at first a difficult to grasp scent. However one scent stood out from the rest to the dragon, the scent of Ahtirm's blood. Her lips curled into a snarl, showing her teeth. Her largest were as long as the humans were tall, a detail she knew they would not overlook._

"_Careful, dragon. If anything happens to us, your rider dies."_

_Engdo lowered her head, getting as close to eye level with them as her size would allow. "Should this come to pass, I will savor your pleads for mercy as I spend many days slowly devouring you."_

_She saw the necromancer's hand tighten on his staff, but he made no other movement and remained silent. The mage was calm and confident despite her promise. "I will not harm her further without good reason. She is in fact doing rather well, despite the unexpected side effects. The two of you are closer than I imagined."_

"_What have you done!?" Engdo's teeth clicked furiously as she snapped out her words._

"_I simply reversed her natural elemental alignment. I never would have guessed you would be affected as well, it was a pleasant surprise."_

_Engdo wanted to roar that his words were impossible, such a thing simply could not be. It must have been done by a spell of great power; to cast it effectively would cost a great deal and be very taxing. If this mage was the one who succeeded, he must be more powerful than Engdo had first assumed. However, she was able to recognize the gleam in his eyes as one of immense self-importance. By feeding his ego, she could possibly learn more than just the surface details. Knowledge indeed was power. "You used the Order like a simple tool, prying Ahtirm away from her overprotective father. Not even I saw the attack coming; I am greatly impressed with your accomplishments thus far." She watched his red eyes gleam with pride. "Though I do not see how she will benefit you. Ahtirm is well known and loved, she will be searched for and you will be hunted."_

_He replied with an aura of calm. "Why do you think I took the risk of changing her element and appearance? It was to hide her from suspicion. I had planned to eventually do the same to you, but fortunately I no longer have to."_

"_Fodr will see right through this."_

"_Should he discover her, I have you to keep me safe." Engdo snorted. "Oh don't give me that look; I have gone great lengths to ensure your loyalty, Engdo. I know you better than you think."_

"_If you know me as well as your claim, then you know I am already on thin ice with the Order despite the influence I bring them." The dragon eyed the mage carefully, knowing his ace was somehow Ahtirm but not knowing how. Perhaps with a gentle nudge he would tell her himself. "What would cause me to fight them and lose what little of their trust I possess?"_

_The mage coldly smirked and reached into his robes. Her slitted eyes narrowed and followed his hand carefully, then widened in shock. A still beating heart was in his palm, his fingers wrapped tightly around it like the bars of a cage. The blood it was somehow still pumping smelled strongly of Ahtirm. "Because I hold your rider's life and will in my hand. I know you will die protecting her, though admittedly I don't know why."_

_Engdo's own heart pounded in sympathy for her human child. Another supposed impossible come true. "Why her, she is just a child! What possible use could she be of to you!?"_

"_She gives me control over you." _

_Her teeth ground as her jaw flexed, wanting badly to snap his body in half. A low snarl escaped her throat. "You will burn for this!"_

_His hand tightened on the heart, it beat rapidly in response. Ahtirm was forced into wakefulness with a painful scream that echoed in Engdo's mind and soul. "You will do as I order, or you will watch her suffer."_

_His hand loosened and Engdo sent comfort to her human child through their bond. Ahtirm's screams slowly faded into scared whimpers. _"Engdo, where are you?"_ she sent. _"It's so cold here, I'm scared!"

"I will protect you, dear one. Stay strong and look for a way out."

"I did, the door is unlocked."

"Then flee! Use the wings I gave you and fly away!"

"I… can't." _Ahtirm sobbed._ "He commanded me not to leave and now every time I try to walk out the door my legs won't move!"

_So that is what the mage meant when he said he controlled her will… _"Gods, what has he done to you, little Ahtirm?"

"He… he said that isn't my name anymore. He said that like our elements and roles in this world have been reversed, so should our names be." _She sniffed, trying not to cry again. _"He called me Mritha and said I was to call you Odgne now. I don't like these names! I wanna go home and see my daddy!"

"He will come for you, my child. He will come." _But until he does, I will pay any price to protect you. Endgo, now Odgne, thought to herself. Addressing the mage, she solemnly said, "I will serve."_

A large tear rolled down the dragon's massive face as she woke from her memory dream. Unlike her human, Odgne always dreamed of the past and not seemingly random images or different endings to past events, not even the rare dreams of what the future eventually brings like some humans possess the ability to do. Always moments of the past played in the dragon's sleep, seen with more clarity than what could be found in her waking moments. _If only I had known what evil and agony he would inflict on you… of the vile plans he reserved for me…_

Odgne forced herself out of these dark and unproductive thoughts. She opened her eye a sliver, pretending to be asleep but still watching the going on of the area around her. The only place the dragon could fit was in the courtyard of the castle and then only barely and after several rooms had crudely been scraped away from the walls. Sun or snow this was her and Mritha's bedroom. Her human slept under her wing each night, probably the safest and warmest place to be in this cold region.

A small undead wyvern landed in one of the few areas not occupied by Odgne's bulk. She watched one of the necromancers, the one she remembered as Rohin, come out and inspect his creation after its maiden flight. Judging from the smile on his face and the fact that his creature actually stayed in the air this time, his first undead wyvern was a success. His smile faded when he was narrowly shot down by an arrow from above. Odgne, still pretending to be sleeping, looked up through the tiny slit between her eyelids and barely made out Beset and one of her undead archers on the wall looking down. Shouting and curses passed between the two necromancers, apparently Beset didn't know the new undead wyvern was a creation of Rohin and was attempting to kill the intruder. _Odd that she missed though. _Odgne thought. _And waited so late to shoot at it._

Eyeing the arrow, the dragon spotted a tan piece of fabric, old gauze maybe, wrapped tightly around the shaft of the arrow just behind the head. Rohin snatched up the arrow and shook it at Beset, continuing the shouting match before breaking it in half and throwing the pieces on the ground. The fabric however, was strangely absent. She looked quickly to the necromancer, watching his hands closely. One was clutched around something she could not see as it slipped into a pocket of his robes. His hand retreated open and empty half a breath later. _Interesting… _

Suddenly she felt a sadly familiar wave of agony flow from her bond with Mritha. Her head snapped up, looking in the direction of her human, her eyes boring into the black stone walls and longing desperately to tear through them and end her child's pain. A low snarl escaped through her bared teeth, infuriated that for now she could do nothing, not without risking the life she cared dearly for. The dragon sent waves of comfort through their bond, sending the feeling of her protective wing coming down and around to embrace her child, safely sheltering her and shielding her beneath.

It was a long time before Mritha responded_. "We are to bring in the rest of them…"_

Odgne remembered the tracks in the mud made from the humans escaping from Icy Falls_. "For what purpose could they be of to him?"_

"_I'm afraid for them, he wants them alive."_

Though the answer was not direct, Odgne knew. _"For their sake then, I hope they die along the way."_

"_For our sakes I hope they don't."_

Odgne winced at that, closing her eyes. Mritha was back to putting herself above others from fear of what Surt would do to her. Each time he pushed her into that desperate corner; it was harder to pull her out.

The dragon smelled her human child before she felt the hand on her nose. Opening her eyes, Odgne looked down sadly at her human child. Only her black wings could be seen, all else was covered by that black armor. The dragon sent comfort and love to her human, trying to ease the fear Mritha felt.

Mritha stiffened, feeling Surt's command for urgency even though he was too far away for her to hear or see him. Dread gnawed at the pit of her stomach as she said, "Let's go."


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Fodr sat at his desk in his home at Dragonsgrasp, studying the strip of cloth in his hands. Numbers had been written on it, though he was still trying to determine their meaning. Fodr had found this strip of cloth hiding within the skull of the undead that had been the first to appear at Icy Falls. He had learned from past experience that whoever was feeding him information would always follow this pattern and he had grown to expect them. His eyes wandered to the map of Lore while he thought and wondered if the numbers could be a location using latitude and longitude. Grabbing the quill on his desk, Fodr drew lines down and across the map. His excitement dimmed when he saw where they met, a barren wasteland covered in snow and ice. Not even Dragsvard was located in a place so desolate. The numbers must mean something else then; he couldn't see how any person, good or evil, could live in a place like that.

A knock on the door interrupted Fodr's thoughts. After being allowed in, Kyle looked sadly at Fodr, his face a little pale. "Word just came in that Icy Falls is gone."

Fodr frowned, confused. "What do you mean, 'gone'"?

"All the people we saved have disappeared, every building leveled. There are not even bodies of the people, they are just… gone."

"He must have known Mritha left some behind, so he sent her back to finish the job." Fodr mused.

"But why take them? There were just those unable to fight, what purpose could they serve?"

Fodr shook his head, not having an answer. "I received another message from the one inside, he might have told us another attack was coming but I couldn't decipher it in time."

When Kyle asked to see the note, Fodr led him into his study and showed him the cloth. "It looks more like longitude and latitude than it does a coded message." Kyle said after studying the written numbers.

"I thought of that, but the location it leads to doesn't make sense. There is nothing out there."

Kyle looked at the crossed lines on the map hanging on the wall. "Is this the right place?" Kyle asked even as he double checked the numbers.

"It is."

"If I remember correctly, that is where a demigod used to live. Well, somewhere in that general area."

"…Excuse me?"

Kyle grinned sheepishly. "It's an old folktale I remember being told when I was growing up back home. The demigod came from the stars, wielding incredible power and desiring to rule over Lore. He chose to live in the northern region because it was similar to where he came from and what he was used to." Kyle was speaking faster now as the memory of the story became clearer. "He built a massive black stone castle as his base. But before he could complete his conquering, his older brother came and fought him, eventually beating him and dragging him back to the stars where they came from. Before he left, the older good brother named the place Fortress of the Fallen, or more commonly known as _Castle Fallen_, to lament his evil younger brother." Kyle closed his eyes, trying to recall the last details. "According to legend, the staff of the younger brother and his primary source of power was left behind somewhere on Lore and his castle is still standing. It's commonly believed to be somewhere around here." He finished, pointing at the crossed lines.

The wheels in Fodr's mind were beginning to turn. Mritha never attacked from any direction but north, an obvious signal that she was held somewhere in that direction. She was also always wearing very thick armor. Yes it protected against much stronger attacks, but wearing such thick armor could be suicide in a warmer climate. It could only be used effectively where it was cold… "Are you sure Castle Fallen is here?" Fodr asked, his finger resting on the map where the lines crossed.

"To be honest, Sir, I don't know if Castle Fallen exists at all. But if it does, then yes it would be in that area."

A spark of hope ignited in Fodr's heart. After so many long years, he was finally close to finding his daughter. "All legends have some truth; otherwise no one would believe them." He said. "Use your amulet and grow your dragon, Kyle. It's time we separate truth from rumor."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Lich shoved a crudely made dresser on its side, but not before emptying its contents and scattering them about the room. Using a dagger he found in the room, he sliced open the mattress and took the gold hidden within. After trashing the room further, he took the dagger and the gold and poked his head out the door. The halls were empty, he was still alone.

Lich hurried over to one of many doors across the hall and quickly picked the lock. He simply tossed the stolen items on the bed, not bothering to conceal them. The undead necromancer bent down to where leather boots were kept and tore off some of the fur from the top. He left the door slightly ajar and walked quickly across the hall again, leaving the fur in plain sight on the floor of the trashed room.

Leaving this door wide open, Lich exited the hall, satisfied that the two respective necromancers who lived in those rooms, Vezrith and Lenoi, would be at each other's throats like rabid dogs by midday. Creating strife among those loyal to Surt and those who never took a side was a past time for the undead necromancer, be it by rumors, vandalism, or other means.

Outside, Mritha's hand reached down to feel the neck of one of the elderly women. They had stopped to rest earlier but now were getting ready to move on, however this woman did not rise when called. There was no pulse.

Sighing, she stood and watched as the gently falling snow began to bury the dead. This woman was one of several that didn't survive the long and cold march to Castle Fallen. Her heart was conflicted with the death; on one hand it was better this way. The dead were spared whatever twisted plans Surt wanted them for. On the other hand… the more she lost the greater payment he would take. Mritha hated that she was too afraid to hope more people would be spared, no longer was she so caring at her own expense. She knew her will was weakening; her spirit was becoming dull and apathetic. Even if Mritha were given a way to rekindle her fighting spirit, she worried she would be too afraid to take it.

"Is she dead?" A voice behind her asked.

"Yes." Mritha responded. Glancing over her shoulder, she winced when Cain made another mark in the little piece of wood held in his hand.

"Quite a few didn't make it, dragonlord." He said as he tucked away the wood into a pocket of his robes. "For your sake I'm glad we are almost there." His smirk said otherwise, but she kept silent.

A hot breath beat against her wings and armor, warming the thin membranes at her back that were numb with cold. "Stay strong, young one." Odgne quietly said from behind when Cain walked away.

Mritha watched the people march solemnly by, escorted by darkness elementals and a few undead. "I don't know if I can." She responded.

Hearing raised voices ahead, Mritha trudged through the thick snow to see a man of middle age standing firm and refusing to go any farther. One arm was wrapped protectively around the shoulders of a young boy, his son, she assumed. His other arm was in a hastily made cast that looked worn and old, the reason he had been evacuated before despite being of fighting age. "Those in front of us have vanished; I will not go any farther and risk the life of my son!" His head turned slowly and carefully to Mritha when the sharp edge of her black sword rested on the skin of his neck. "Kill me if you wish, I won't take another step!"

"So you would rather your son see you slaughtered before his eyes? Leave him alone and surrounded by those who wish him ill?" She calmly responded.

His arm tightened around the boy and he looked ahead uncertainly. "I… will go." He finally said. Mritha's sword lowered. "I hope the rest of your days are filled with terror and horror because of this." He snarled, then led his son forward.

"You have no idea how true that already is." She quietly said to his back as he vanished. Mritha waited until the last of them had stepped through, then she followed them. Her armored feet went from fluffy white snow to cold black stone in a single step. The people in front of her gaped at the black castle they walked to, now able to see it. Mritha's mind wandered back to the day she woke up in a small cell in this cold place. She wasn't allowed such a view of its size and wonder until much later. _Though in the end, I guess it didn't matter. _She thought to herself.

It seemed like an eternity that Mritha walked behind, no, hid behind the people she had taken as the group made their way down the mile long bridge to the castle. He was there inside the gate, inspecting each person as they passed him by. Her eyes did not miss the little piece of wood in his hands. Surt didn't even look at her when he said, "Bring me the boy hiding behind that man." Mritha looked to where he pointed. It was the man from before, his son's face peeking out from behind his father. "Kill the rest." Without another word, he left.

Mritha looked at the people, all unarmed and unable to fight back. This wasn't a battle like he had commanded her to fight many times before, this was murder. She fought with all her might against his will, but her hand still drew her sword. Her feet still moved forward.

Some distance from Castle Fallen, Odgne paced, her talons tearing in deeply to the ice beneath her claws. With how roughly she was tearing the ice, the dragon was literally wearing a large hole in the ground with her pacing.

"Odgne!" a voiced called. She didn't hear it over her own ranting and tramping.

"It is no longer enough to make her watch and endure suffering." The dragon snarled, her teeth bared in fury. "Now he commands her to inflict it!"

"Odgne!" Still no response from the dragon. Lich was afraid to get closer, the way her claws ripped up the ice worried him. As did her spiked tail snapping out with every sharp turn she made and of course those teeth…

"If I act he kills her, I stand idle I lose my child to evil and despair!"

"ODGNE!"

"WHAT!?" Teeth as long as Lich was tall snapped shut inches from his face, her hot and angry breath easily thawing out his cold bones.

_Dear Zeuster help me…_ Lich silent prayed. "Tearing up the ice that makes up our solid ground isn't going to do you any good, all it does is show Surt he is getting to you both."

He breathed a sigh of relief when her head lifted; his vision was no longer filled with teeth. "I dislike being cornered, human. Your master has done just that with the only one I know how to love."

Lich chose his words carefully, there was a good reason her surname was Humanslayer and he would much rather not see her live up to it. "I know Mritha must have told you that Fodr knows where you both are." Only her eyelids moved, blinking away the snow gently blowing in her face. Lich continued. "No matter what Surt commands you and her to do when he arrives, Fodr still has allies, within and from without, this castle."

"The new dragonlord, you, Aiolos… and who else?" The dragon baited.

The undead shook his skull. "Know that I have wanted to tell you both, but for your protection and mine I can't say names, if there are any to say at all."

_Carefully worded. _Odgne thought, remembering that if Surt so commanded, Mritha would be unable to lie to him. "I see and understand why you choose not to inform my child, but I can and often do hide things from your master. Why do you refrain from enlightening me?"

Lich fingered his staff to keep his hands busy. "Because you are weakening to Surt's will, just as Mritha is."

"He does not hold my heart, human."

"Yet. He doesn't have it yet."

"You assume he will?"

"I know he will!" Lich said forcefully. "Practically nothing can slip past your attention and yet I had to scream to be noticed by you. You are always calm and calculating, never wearing your emotions on your sleeve, or, scales I should say, and look at the mess you have made with your pacing!" Then in a gentler voice, Lich continued. "He is getting to you, Odgne. If this continues he will take you and have no more use for Mritha."

Odgne snorted, black smoke billowing from her nostrils as she relented. "Very well." She ceased pressing the matter and the two stood in an awkward silence until the dragon asked. "Why does Surt keep you necromancers? Two he holds the heart of and they are elsewhere. Those of you within the castle are free to an extent; at least two of you rebel against him. He must know about your loyalty, how can he not?"

Lich shrugged, his bones rattling from the movement. "I don't know his real reasons. Aiolos isn't just a necromancer, but a doctor as well, an odd but very useful combination of skills so I can see why he is tolerated. As for me, I honestly don't know." He admitted.

"You have a keen eye, Lich. I admit it is a great annoyance to me not knowing how well you know what goes on behind those walls." Odgne tilted her head. "However he does not take your hearts, only those of the two he captured later. For what reason?"

Lich opened his robe a little, showing his boney chest. "My heart decayed long ago; there is nothing left for him to take."

"Yours, perhaps otherwise. But there are twenty-six others who are alive and living behind those black walls."

Lich turned, looking at Castle Fallen as he spoke. "I've wondered if it was a matter of pride or control. He lets us plot against him because he is confident we will fail. It is a game to him. If your opponent has no way to fight you, where is the fun in beating them? He wanted a challenge, a source of entertainment. We provide it for him."

"He is a fool to toy with his foes in such a manner." Annoyed with a chunk of ice lodged in the spikes of her tail, Odgne thwacked her tail into the snow, trying to dislodge it.

"Well, I'm not complaining. You were right many years ago when you said his arrogance would be his downfall." Lich watched the block of ice land a good distance away after being freed from Odgne's thrashing tail. "What worries me most is if he gets bored of this game he will eliminate the players and move on to a different one."

Odgne felt the emotional agony her human child was feeling increase dramatically. Surt was apparently not done with her. The dragon winced in sympathy, wishing desperately she could stop him. "I know your fear; I feel it for my child. After twelve years he is finally bored with her and is creating her replacement while still furthering his original plans."

"Creating her re-" Lich paused mid question. "The boy." At Odgne's nod, he pinched the bridge of his nose with two boney fingers. "By the light, that man has not a shred of benevolence in him."

Odgne's wings shifted into a more comfortable folded position. "You just now arrived at this realization?"

"No… but I'm still surprised at how cold and twisted someone could be. I guess I should be used to it by now." Lich said quietly. _Especially after what I did, shame it took dying to see what I had become. _He thought to himself.

Sensing his sadness, Odgne lowered her head and gently blew her warm breath on the cold figure in front of her. Lich's tattered robes rustled softly and he smelled something foul and decaying on her breath, but he recognized the gesture as one of affection and gently rubbed the nose of the massive dragon, just under her horn. "Thank you, Odgne."

"It is my hope that Fodr arrives immanently." Odgne said, pulling away after Lich's hand rested on her snout for several heartbeats. "For if he does not there will be no need for him to come. It will be too late for us all."

Inside the castle, Mritha solemnly carried the boy's unconscious form in her arms. Nearing his designated room, she gently knelt on the floor near his bed, cradling him. Her hand rested on his now silent chest, he no longer had a heartbeat. "I'm sorry…" she whispered to the boy in her arms. He was younger than even she was when Surt took her will. Her shoulders shook as she wept over him. "I'm so sorry…"


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Days later, Mritha looked down at the cold sea below. _You should be grateful to me, _Surt's voice echoed in her mind from years past. _I have given you immortality. Time has no power over you, poison and blade are meaningless._

_Thank you? You took my freedom! Given the chance I will kill you!_

_Nothing is free, Mritha. Everything has a price. You are simply paying up._

_My name is Ahtirm!_

_Not anymore._

So long ago did that conversation take place. Unless her heart was destroyed or badly damaged, she would not die. So he had said. But looking down at the water below, Mritha wondered how true that was. If she jumped, there wouldn't be a body left to live in, it would be destroyed completely from a fall at this height. How would she live then? In that moment, Mritha almost let go and let herself fall. Surely whatever existence she was put in would be easier to endure than this! _You would leave Odgne to suffer alone if you do this._ A small voice in the back of her mind whispered. _Lich and Aiolos would be here forever, your father would come only to find that his daughter was weak. She gave up and tried to run instead of fighting and waiting for him._

"I can't take any more of this…" she whispered back to the voice, her eyes prickling and burning with fought back tears. Her sanity didn't even cross her mind, that she was having conversations with strange voices in her head. Mritha looked out in the distance, as if the rising sun on the horizon could offer her hope. Two dragons were approaching, still tiny in the sky. One appeared to be grayish in color, the other was glittering gold, unmistakably so even from the distance between them. "Father… you came!" Mritha's grip on the rail tightened. "Praise the gods, you came!"

Fodr looked out to the sea as they approached, then down at the fluttering map clutched tightly in his hand. "We are here but there is nothing." He called to his companions brokenheartedly.

Kyle frowned but said nothing. It seemed that the legend was untrue and they now had no leads and no time. Then he saw something moving down below, it was difficult to tell from this height but it looked like someone wrapped tightly in a pure white robe, only seen against the snow because of the skeletal horse the person rode provided a backdrop against the sea of white. Before Kyle could point out the rider, the snow seemed to swirl unnaturally ahead of them. Distracted now, he watched a black bridge take shape in front of him as if a thick fog were suddenly lifted. "Fodr!" He called.

"I see!" Came his reply. Both dragons picked up their speed, following the bridge as it was unveiled. The waves ahead no longer looked like the rest of the sea, being blown by the wind. Now they crashed against something, black stone walls could now be seen. The castle slowly appeared ahead of them now that the spell concealing it had been severed.

Beset glanced up at the dragons, monitoring their approach. They would soon be within range. An unseen command had her undead drawing their drawing their bows; she pulled an arrow from the quiver on her back and took aim alongside her creations. "What are you waiting for, bring them down!" A voice called behind her. She recognized it to belong to Jaken, a loyalist necromancer.

Without a word, she quickly turned and loosed her arrow into his chest. "The same thing I be waitin' on for years!" She answered him as he fell, a shocked expression on his face.

The green robed necromantress glanced up as the two dragons flew closer. "It's about time ye be gettin' 'ere." She grumbled and drew another arrow. Though they had never landed, they still flew as if they could see the castle. An oddity, the spell interrupter was located on a dead tree near the edge of the sea. They never activated it so if they could see the castle, then it meant someone else had. Beset's lips pressed together in a thin line when the thought crossed her mind, not knowing who ended the spell.

A massive black shadow rose up in front of Tyr-Gullin and Nacure, startling the two dragons and their riders. The sound of her beating wings was the only noise Odgne made as she rose from the cramped courtyard and vanished into the thick clouds above, granting the four intruders an easy access to the castle.

Undead poured out into the courtyard when the two dragons landed. Nacure took a deep breath and exhaled, a grayish fog erupting from his mouth and turning all undead it touched into solid stone. Behind him, Fodr raised his blade to meet the axe of an undead but an arrow brought the creature down first. Looking up, the elder dragonlord saw that the walls around the courtyard were topped with undead, each armed with a bow and shooting the animated skeletons below.

Undead gargoyles, gryphons, and even a wyvern swooped down from above, attacking the undead on the ground. It was as if the two dragonlords had arrived in the midst of a civil war in the castle.

Fodr and Kyle were able to slip into the castle mostly without trouble, the undead and their necromancer masters were occupied with fighting each other instead of stopping them. When Kyle saw the black dragonlord emerge from behind a large stone staircase, he raised his sword but Fodr jerked his arm down. "Father!" She cried out and charged, leaping into his arms. Kyle stood to the side awkwardly, watching them embrace. He briefly wondered if he should leave them alone for a while, but quickly remembered how easily that woman had killed before, against her will or not.

He was glad he didn't leave when he heard laughter echoing through the hallway. "Oh this is precious," Surt commented, watching the three below from his perch at the top of the staircase. His staff was held in one hand… a beating heart in his other. "Such an adorable moment when a father and daughter reunite." Mritha slinked behind Fodr, as if trying to hide. "Unfortunately the arrival of you two has unleashed hell on this castle and caused Zeuster knows what kind of damage." He continued, speaking now to Fodr and Kyle. "I considered killing you both for this; though having two more dragonlords and their dragons to add to my collection would be useful indeed."

A protective rage filled Mritha; the memory of the little boy trembling in her arms while Surt stole his freedom was still fresh in her mind. She drew her black sword and stepped out from her father's shadow. "You will do no such thing to them!" She shouted, even though she had not the slightest clue on how to stop him.

"Hmm… you're right. Two more dragonlords would be far too much trouble than they are worth and attract too much attention." When he smiled at Mritha, she trembled and had the urge to hide again, to run from whatever twisted thought was stewing in his mind. "I think it will be far more entertaining to watch you kill them."

"Please," she softly begged, barely able to force the words past the growing lump in her throat. "Please don't!"

"Kill them both, your father first." Surt commanded.

Her mind screamed in anguish, fighting the chains that lifted her arm, her sword almost severing her father's head. It would have had he not ducked and backed away. Her legs moved without her consent, rushing her body forward to strike again. "Kyle!" Fodr shouted, blocking her black and purple blade with his gold and silver sword. "Get her heart and command her to stop!"

Kyle obeyed, running up the stairs two at a time. A fireball whizzed past him when he reached the top, the shock of its suddenness knocking him off balance and almost causing him to fall back down the stairs when he back stepped to avoid it. Several bone fires were waiting for him at the top; he had apparently missed their presence in his mad dash up the black stones. Their fire heated his shield when he hid behind it, slowly advancing and cutting the dead casters down as he neared them. One slice from his blade was usually all it took to bring an undead down; there were just so damn many of them! Surt backed away, watching the two fights taking place from a safer distance.

Odgne watched from above, almost invisible in the thick clouds. Nacure and Tyr-Gullin were attacking both sides of the necromancers battling below, not knowing who to fight for. A considerable amount of undead and even one of the necromancers had been turned to stone by Nacure. Several piles of dusty bones were scattered around as well, the dark magic binding the souls to decaying bodies had been undone by Tyr-Gullin's light breath. Odgne felt her human child's anguish like a knife to her scaly breast and roared in helpless sympathy. Alerted to her presence and possibly thinking she was going to soon attack, Tyr-Gullin and Nacure abandoned their eradication of the undead below and flew up, teeth bared. Enraged by the torment she felt flooding though her soul bond; Odgne dove to meet them halfway, too lost in primal rage to remember that they were her allies. "Fools!" she roared at them. "Hatchlings! Do you really dare to challenge me!?" Darkness poured from her maw, meeting stone and light midair.

Rohin glanced up at the three dragons fighting above him. "Stupid lizards causing more hell than anything else!" He grumbled, directing an undead gryphon to snatch up an enemy undead and fling it into the cold stone walls of the courtyard, its bones clattering to the ground shortly after.

"They be confused, they don't be knowin' who is friend and who is foe." Beset said, frowning when a bonefire cast a fireball at one of her archers, charring its bones and freeing the captive soul.

"Easy for you to say, they didn't shatter as much of your minions!" Yelling caught his attention and he looked over to see Vezrith and Lenoi, two other necromancers, arguing over he didn't care what. "It's like there was a target on them. 'Here is one of Rohin's undead that he spend countless hours to find and fuse a soul to bones that had to be put back together in a way that still allows them to fly! Extra points if you eat one of them!'" He said, as if announcing an entertainment show on stage.

"Oh quit ye whinin'." Beset grumbled, aiming for the bonefire before releasing her arrow. Red curls bounced when she nodded in satisfaction, her arrow felling the flaming undead.

It was a seemingly endless battle for Kyle; more undead blocked his path no matter how many he killed. His armor was blackened in places from the fire and much of his skin burning from the heated metal. Thanks to his dragon amulet, he was able to heal some of the burns by connecting to Nacure's magic. He didn't dare heal them all though, no matter the pain and discomfort. This was both in part to his current lack of concentration from the battle around him and because he didn't want to take too much of Nacure's power in case the dragon needed it more than he did. Kyle had given up trying to reach Surt by now; he was trying his best to fight his way to the dark skinned necromancer. All he had to do was kill the red robed figure and he would be free to pursue Surt, the undead no longer being controlled and commanded to stand in his way.

An axe wielding undead came up from behind Kyle and swung his weapon, the sharp blade cutting through the ribcage of a bonefire. More followed it, shambling right past Kyle and attacking the other undead. A white robed necromancer impaled a bonefire with his white and cold blue staff. "Don't jusst sstand there, you idiot!" The necromancer hissed, his long white braid swinging when he jumped back to avoid a fireball. "Go after Ssurt and end thiss!" Kyle hesitated only briefly, wondering why one of the necromancers was helping him, before spotting Surt through the warring undead and charging.

Mritha sidestepped, dodging Fodr's lunge and striking at the same time. He blocked with the heavy gauntlets on his armor, the flat of his blade striking her midsection. He could have done damage with that attack even with her armor on. Yet he used the flat of his blade, not the sharpened edge and didn't use magic. He was fighting defensively. Despite her mind screaming at her to stop, Mritha's arm lashed out and twisted, her blade catching on his sword's hilt and wrenching it from his hand. Now he had no weapon.

"Had it not been for you, Engdo, Ahtirm would never have suffered this way!" Tyr-Gullin dove, narrowly avoiding her snapping jaws. He was surprised at how easily she was angered, always had she been cool and calculating, never making rash actions. Now however… he darted quickly to the side, his tail almost getting bitten off!

With Odgne's attention completely focused on Tyr-Gullin, Nacure flew above her and breathed on her back where her right wing was joined to her spine. Scales and bone turned to stone, freezing her wing in place. Now unable to fly, Odgne began rapidly sinking from the sky but was able to snatch Tyr-Gullin out of the air with her hind claws as she fell past him. She pulled him down, her claws digging into his side when he struggled to be free from her grip. The icy ocean water shocked them both with its cold when they fell into it, the waves created from their impact with the water rising up and almost swiping Nacure from the low flight he had taken. His gray slitted eyes scanned the churning water for the two dragons below but neither surfaced.

Mritha advanced without mercy, the darkness forming in her palm suddenly released at her father. Fodr caught the blast on his shield, blackening it slightly. When his daughter swung her dark blade, he ducked and grabbed her before she could recover, pinning her sword arm to her chest and causing them both to fumble to the floor. He rolled and grabbed his sword, standing while raising it and blocking her next attack with his blade. It became a test of strength as the two warriors locked weapons and tried to force the other back.

"Don't give in, Ahtirm! You have fought this for twelve years, don't falter now!"

A tear rolled down her face as Mritha cursed her weakness. It should have been so simple to listen to her father's words, to keep fighting the evil writhing in her soul. But it wasn't. Her heart ached when she forced her father to his knees.

Kyle sliced empty air as his foe vanished from sight, only to appear behind him with a painful strike to his back. Surt was deliberately not injuring Kyle too badly with each attack; it was far too much fun to watch the dragonlord flail and fail. Kyle had barely enough time to catch a darkness spell on his shield, the impact forcing him back a step. He tried to shake it off, his pride taking the biggest blow. He knew he was below average in a fight; he hadn't been a dragonlord for long and hadn't held a weapon before then. Still, to be toyed with like this… Kyle gritted his teeth, reigning in his anger. He whirled around and lashed out, knowing Surt would attempt to shadowstep behind him again. His sword was caught by Surt's staff and a blast of darkness hit his chest, knocking him down. "You show promise, young dragonlord." Surt commented.

Kyle scrambled to his feet, sword and shield raised. "I've gotten that a lot lately." He replied warily.

"You don't have a snowball's chance in hell to defeat me; my power is strengthened by the might of many!" Surt truthfully taunted. "Your leader is losing against his own daughter, your dragon losing against her's. Do you think she will spare you because you flew with her father? No, she will come for you next."

"You have the power to stop her; she won't attack without your command." Kyle pointed out, buying time. Maybe if he kept the mage distracted with small talk, he could gain a slight advantage.

"That I do." Surt admitted, catching the ice spell in his hand and dissipating it without batting an eye. "But I don't think I will. I enjoy watching my possessions take a life, knowing that murder would never have crossed their minds unless I commanded them to act is… thrilling."

"If your mind is made up then why waste your time with conversation?" Kyle asked, both annoyed and a little afraid by how easily Surt countered his spell.

"I want you to know and fully comprehend how you do not stand a chance. When you are faced with your own death at the hands of the one you were questing to save, I will offer you a chance to live. I am very curious to see what your response will be, even if it won't matter in the end." Kyle shivered when Surt smiled at him; he wondered if that was the same smile a spider would give an insect that had become ensnared in its web, moments before the spider devoured it. "Maybe I will even change my mind and add another dragonlord to my collection."

At that moment, Kyle's eyes flicked to the door, sorely tempted to run. He didn't know how Surt was able to remove a heart from a person or how exactly he was able to command their actions after. Yes the thought of being controlled scared him, but the many unknowns about it toyed with his fears as well. He took a deep, shaking breath; remembering words engraved on a wall in Dragonsgrasp, found when he was lost in the city. _Strength is found when you go beyond what you are able. Heroes are born when you abandon your life for the hope of saving another. _Kyle glanced down at Fodr's desperate fight, he felt Nacure's worry through his amulet as the stone dragon tried to make a dent of damage in Odgne's thick scales. Despair and loss surrounded him, but there was still a glimmer of hope. That white necromancer stepped in, fighting the red necromancer so that Kyle would be free to confront Surt. Fodr could never have gotten this far without the help of someone within this place sneaking him information. They were not alone here; they had allies fighting alongside them. They had hope.

Kyle lashed out unexpectedly with his sword, catching Surt by surprise. He had been expecting the young dragonlord to flee, not keep fighting! The mage jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blade. Though not completely avoiding it, he realized when he felt something warm begin to fall down his face. He touched his cheek then looked at the blood on his fingertips. Surt angrily cast a spell of energy at the dragonlord who caught it on his shield, though was forced back from the strong impact. Kyle ducked and avoided the next spell, it missing him and hitting the wall behind him, knocking down an oil lantern and pouring the flaming oil on the floor like liquid fire. Kyle stood with his back to the flames, his sword and shield raised in defense against the now angry and wary mage. The young dragonlord allowed himself a barest of a smile on his face. His odds didn't seem so impossible now that he was watching his foe bleed.

Beset summoned a shadow arrow, her quiver now empty of wooden ones. She scanned the courtyard, searching for a target but had eliminated them all. Despite the bitter cold, sweat was beading on her brow. She wiped it away with the sleeve of her green robes and savored the brief moment to catch her breath. The necromantress dissipated the shadow arrow with distain. She despised using them; they were such an expensive drain on her mana. Beset began gathering arrows from her kills while her mind counted the souls still shackled to her undead, adding up her losses and discovering how many she had left.

Kerith jogged over, part of her robes singed. "The courtyard is ours along with several main hallways." She shoved her brown hair out of her eyes. "I can't find Lich, Aiolos, or Theo."

"We know where the dragonlords were goin'; maybe they followed 'em." Beset placed her gathered arrows in her quiver and called to Rohin. "Leave the beast, we must be goin'!" He rose and followed them when they turned to the door Kyle and Fodr had passed through earlier, casting one final distressed look at his redead wyvern. Beset ignored his complaining remarks about how long it had taken him to find all the parts to build the wyvern and muttered under her breath. "If them dragonlords found Surt they gonna be needin' all the help they can get."

Aiolos thwapped Enroc in the head with the head of his staff then rolled the wooden shaft around the back of his hand; bring the end up and thrusting it into his foe's belly. Enroc doubled over, dazed from the blows. Aiolos winced when one of his undead was set ablaze, the link he held with its soul snapping when the spirit was freed. He moved to take advantage of Enroc's momentary inability to attack but was distracted by shouting below. Mritha had cornered her father who was now having difficulty maneuvering. The older man was tiring as well.

Aiolos pointed at the two dragonlords, several of his undead branching away from their fight with Enroc's creations and clattering down the stairs, dog piling Mritha when they reached her. Fodr at first tried to help her fight them off, but ceased when he realized they were only trying to hold her down, not trying to harm her, or himself for that matter. The white necromancer nodded in satisfaction, sure that would keep the girl occupied and Fodr safe for several minutes.

His victory was short lived. His face twisted into one of shock and pain. It felt as if a hot fire had laced through him and yet at the same time, he felt cold. The chill was not from the air around him but emanated from within. He looked down slowly, as if time were suddenly crawling. A shiny red blade was protruding from his middle, shiny red from his blood. He grabbed the blade, somehow surprised when it cut his palm. "Did you really think we didn't know what you and Lich were planning?" Enroc whispered in his ear. "Your little rebellion dies today, starting with you!" He jerked the stolen blade out of Aiolos's back and tossed it carelessly aside to the pile of bones he took it from. Aiolos's knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor, his own blood staining his precious white robes. With their master dead, the animated skeletons holding Mritha back and keeping Enroc's undead away from Kyle ceased their actions, wandering aimlessly or attacking the first thing they saw moving.

Mritha renewed her attack against her father while Kyle suffered an unexpected fireball to his back, dropping him to his knees.

Below the waves, Odgne swiped at Tyr-Gullin with her claw but he evaded. The water was making it difficult for both to maneuver but worse for the larger and much heavier female. Her magic was already working against Nacure's breath on her wing but it was still frozen in place. Her slitted eyes narrowed when she watched the gold dragon claw his way to the surface. She pushed off from the sea floor with her hind legs and rose rapidly, her teeth nipping at Tyr-Gullin and pulling him back down underwater. Her jaws clamped down on the spine of the squirming dragon, rendering him still and lifeless. Her fury blinded her to the remorse she should have felt and swam nearer to shore where she could stand on the sand below and still have her head above water. Odgne's black breath enveloped the grey cloud reaching down for her. She may still be grounded, but Odgne was far from defenseless. She warily watched the stone dragon circle as she walked to shallower waters.

Fodr cried out when he felt Tyr-Gullin die, the link they shared suddenly severed and the power flowing from the dragon to his human ended. He felt suddenly blind and unable to comprehend the world around him even though his senses were still intact. It was no effort at all for Mritha to knock his sword and shield from his hands, attacking relentlessly until he was once again cornered. Surt ignored the young dragonlord, leaving him for Enroc to deal with. He stroked the heart in his hands with his thumb. Victory was so close; his hands almost trembled with glee! Make the girl kill her own father, let her despair and final submission leak over and poison the already tainted heart of the dragon, then take the last thing the beast has left. Force the dragon to watch as her beloved human was slain. Not even Odgne could resist his spells then, Loki's Staff was sure to activate!

Mritha's sword wavered above her father's throat, fighting the chains binding her will. Surt's thumb caressed the heart in his hand. "Kill him, Mritha." He commanded. Her arm thrust forward.

Surt was unable to enjoy the moment; he dropped the heart and his staff and clutched his now bleeding leg where an arrow protruded. His glanced over to his left where three necromancers stood, their undead advancing. One in particular caught his glare, the one lowering her bow. Surt snarled and raised his palm, energy crackling between his fingers as he prepared to launch the spell at them. Kyle tackled him before he could complete the spell, the two of them tumbling down the stairs. Before they even reached the bottom, Kyle heard a woman's scream of agony. His first sight upon reaching the base of the stairs was Mritha clutching her breast, smoke leaking out of her chest plate. Above, Enroc was in the midst of the flames from the broken lantern, holding a ball of fire and desperately swatting at it with his sleeve as if trying to put the flames out. Surt took one look at Mritha and knew exactly what was happening. "No!" He yelled, shoving Kyle off of him and scrambling to his feet. "It's too soon!"

By the time Enroc had put out the fires licking the heart in his hands, it was blackened and silent. An arrow was blocked by his hastily thrown up arcane shield, he commanded his undead to protect him from those advancing but his were outnumbered. He tucked the still heart into his robe and hastily retreated, leaving his undead behind to stall the other necromancers.

Surt was hobbling away to a balcony but Kyle grabbed the arrow and yanked it out with a twist, deliberately causing more pain than needed. A piece of meat was stuck on the arrowhead, having been torn out of Surt's muscles. He now could no longer put weight on that leg and reached down to apply a healing spell. Infuriated by all this man had caused, Kyle tacked him a second time, breaking the old wooden railing and tossing them bother over the side.

At the sea's edge, Odgne roared in agony, the feeling of part of her soul dying was almost more than she could withstand. She felt every lick of the flames eating away at her human child's heart, she felt the other half of her soul writhe within Mritha's body, she felt the soul sink beneath the icy waters of the dead. Red blurred the dragon's vision; she tasted blood on her tongue. A numbness crept along her scales, gone was the dull throbbing of her wing where her blood was cut off from the rest of her body and quickly growing cold. Her only thought was vengeance. The dragon saw Nacure out of the corner of her eye and leapt into the air, attempting to tear him apart with her jaws. She cared not who she killed, she only cared about killing itself. A primal need to taste the blood of her prey was overwhelming, to smell the coppery scent of their life draining away. Nacure dodged the attack and flew high, circling uncertainly. He had never seen one of his kind reduced to such a primitive behavior and mindset. From his link with Kyle through the amulet, he knew Mritha had died. He also knew that his human was now hanging on to a rotten wooden railing and was close to falling. Terrified beyond his own understanding that he would be reduced to such a state should his human die, Nacure ignored the raging black dragon below and flew to his human with as much speed as he could muster.

Kyle looked down. It was a very long way to the bottom. He felt nauseated all of the sudden and closed his eyes. "Never look down, you never look down and I just looked down. Why did I look down? Because I'm an idiot, that's why." He whispered to himself, as if talking any louder would make the railing break. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, looking up at the small balcony. The wood seemed ancient with how easily it broke, though it was more likely just old and weathered. The young dragonlord was gripping a beam that had fallen vertical, his arms and legs were wrapped tightly around it. A single nail that connected his life support beam to another part of the railing still intact was sliding slowly through the wood. Kyle cautiously reached up to grab the edge of the stone floor but even that small and careful movement cause the rotting wood to creak and splinter. Kyle quickly retracted his hand and dug his fingers into the wood for dear life.

"Where is Surt?" A voice called from above.

Kyle looked up into the green eyes of what he correctly assumed was another necromancer. _Cursed place is full of these people…_ he thought to himself. "Pardon?"

"The evil dude you were fighting, who else?"

"He fell." Kyle responded.

"To his death I hope." The necromancer reached down, holding out his hand. "I'm Rohin, by the way."

"Kyle." He said as he reached for the outstretched hand. The beam he was wrapped around groaned, then gave.

Rohin was barely able to snatch Kyle's hand from the air and was almost pulled over the side from the sudden jerk of the action. "This would be so much easier if you weren't wearing heavy armor!" He complained. He then looked up. "Oh, that's much better." Rohin said as he let go of Kyle's hand.

Kyle screamed loudly as he fell, certain he was going to die as soon as he hit the ground. A gray mass snatched him out of the air, jerking him violently as Nacure made a tight turn to narrowly avoid the black stone wall. "P-perfect timing." Kyle managed to squeak out.

Nacure's nose wrinkled as he flew up, preparing to place his human back on the balcony safely. Relieved beyond belief that his human was safe, the dragon teased him. "You might need to check your armor, I smell something foul."

"That's not me, I swear!" Kyle snapped, a bit of red creeping up his neck. Nacure simply chuckled. The young dragonlord landed safely on the balcony, his amulet glowing when Nacure shrunk down to his normal size. He rounded the corner looking for Fodr with his baby gray dragon scampering behind him. The white dragonlord knelt on the ground, cradling his daughter in his arms and sobbing.

For the first time, Kyle saw her face. It was blackened and blistered in places, as if the fires had been consuming her from the outside in, not the inside out. Her hair was raven black and long, spilling down from her head. Her face, like the skin of almost all the people in this place, looked like it had not seen the sun for an extended period of time in years. He was unsure what to say to the elder dragonlord so he simply laid his hand on his shoulder, feeling awkward but trying to offer comfort nevertheless.

"Twelve years, Kyle." He softly said. "For twelve years I searched and fought. She did the impossible and never gave in…" He couldn't finish.

Kyle again was a loss for words. Silence stretched between them for many heartbeats, broken only by the occasional roar of anguish from outside. A gentle, chilling wind blew through the room and Kyle was suddenly aware of the presence of another. When his eyes lifted to perceive who this other was, he found himself face to face with the avatar of Death. Now Kyle had heard tales of this man, if that was indeed what Death could be called, that would make a person believe Death was an interesting and oftentimes humorous character. But staring into the faceless hood of this… being, had a cold fear trickle down his spine. "I have already collected the others, she is the last." The voice of Death was menacing yet peaceful, as if a great warlord was speaking and yet it was an innocent child instead. There was one voice and yet many, as if he spoke alone but all the souls in his realm spoke with him. Kyle would spend years after this day trying to describe accurately this voice but would never succeed.

"Please, I beg you to not take my daughter." Fodr whispered.

The avatar of Death sighed, as if reflecting how annoying and clingy a loved one of the soul he reaped could be, interfering with his job, and yet there was also sadness as if Death were only doing what he must and intended no harm or sorrow but aware that he caused both. "Her soul is fallen, it is mine now."

"I will do anything you ask of me, I swear to do it if you will spare her! You have already taken my wife and unborn son, please don't take her too!"

"I have not yet collected my quota of souls for this day, she is my last." His black robes seemed to be made of darkness and shadow; they rippled in a wind that the mortals could not feel.

"But you are death itself! Do you not have the final say?" Fodr asked in desperation.

"For all things, there is one of greater power and authority. Even I am bound by this; I cannot leave without one more soul."

_What on Lore could possibly be powerful enough to have Death answer to them? _Kyle wondered. Fodr seemed to weighing his options, then came to a decision. "If you need another soul, then take mine and return her to the living."

"Your choice is final," Death cautioned. "Are you certain?"

"I am." Fodr resolvently responded, lacking the slightest bit of hesitation.

"Then come." A swirling portal opened up beside Death and he motioned to it as he spoke. The portal was like looking into eternity. It was all colors imaginable but it was devoid of any color at all.

"Fodr…" Kyle quietly said, unsure how to react.

Fodr rested his hand on Kyle's shoulder. "I can't thank you enough for all you did; I could never have come this far without your help."

"I-I'm sorry I couldn't do more." Kyle said, the lump in his throat making it hard to talk.

Fodr cast one final longing glance at his daughter, then stepped through the portal and disappeared. When Death followed him, the portal closed.

The young dragonlord heard a soft, shuddering gasp of air behind him. He turned and saw Mritha slowly rising into a sitting position, the burns on her face already fading as if they were never there to begin with. Kyle touched his empty sheath, remembering the last time he was alone with this woman. She looked around, her violet eyes resting on Fodr's shield only a little ways out of reach, his sword a little bit farther than that. "Where is my father?" She asked. Then on a fearful second thought, "Where is Surt?"

"Surt is dead now, he fell off the balcony." Kyle motioned behind him. "You're safe now."

"And my father?" Her deep purple eyes pierced his, demanding the answer he was hesitant to give.

"He…" _How the hell do you say this gently? _He thought to himself. "The avatar of Death came for you, and, your father went with him instead of you so that you could return to life."

"How?" She asked after a moment's thought, stunned. "How could he trade his life away like that?" 

"Because he loves you." Kyle answered.

"How can someone love me enough to die for me, knowing all I had done?"

"You are not what you have done; you are what you have overcome." Kyle no longer felt afraid of her; he couldn't have imagined what it must have been like to be stripped of your free will, literally unable to stop yourself from committing acts of evil that you would never have done otherwise. "Your father gave you a second chance; it is not too late to fix the wrongs you have committed."

She shook her head in disbelief. "You have no idea what I have done."

"No, I don't." But Fodr told me you were one of many under Surt's control and the only one who resisted him. Find and free the others! Stop them from taking the lives of innocents as you did!"

Mritha stood and walked over to her father's fallen sword, cradling it in her armored hands. "He never believed I would be free from darkness." She said quietly. "He never stopped trying, but in his heart he knew I could never succeed him as the white dragonlord."

Kyle picked up his own sword and sheathed it. "There is a difference between darkness and evil, Mritha. It is possible to be one without the other."

The smallest smile touched her face, as if she were daring to hope. The room shook violently and without warning, black stones crashing to the floor around them. Kyle drew his sword but Mritha was unconcerned. A large slitted eye peered in from the window; it seemed unusually watery, as if tears were threatening to fall. With Mritha alive once more, Odgne no longer felt the agony in her soul. Though there was now a deep fear in her heart that she would feel the pain again someday. The dragon was determined now to not lose another child, even if this one did not share her blood. Mritha rested her forehead on Odgne's scaly cheek, conveying the love she felt for the only mother she could remember.

Kyle looked down at Nacure, who returned his gaze. They shared a friendship; close companions were they, able to communicate through the dragon amulet Kyle carried. Odgne and Mritha, however, had joined souls by love and kindred pain, each providing a balm to the other. Like the Seven before them, they had no amulet. If Kyle remembered correctly, the first two of the Seven came to be before the amulets were even created. They were not joined by a magical trinket, they were united with love. It was a profound realization for the young dragonlord and his hatchling.

"What is your name?" Mritha quietly asked.

Kyle and Nacure were both jolted from their thoughts by the spoken question. "I am Kyle," He motioned to the stone hatchling at his feet. "And this is Nacure."

"Thank you both, so very much." Her voice shook a little. So much had been gained this day. So much had been lost.

"You're welcome." He responded. "I need to return to Dragonsgrasp, but if you ever need my help don't hesitate to send for me."

"I may take you up on that sooner than you think."

Kyle nodded and turned to go up the stairs to retrieve his shield, but Rohin stood at the base of them with the gray shield in his hands. Kyle glared at him as he took the offered safeguard, bitter at having been dropped on purpose. "Dunno what you're mad about, I knew your dragon would catch you." The necromancer said in response to the glare. Kyle said nothing when the man shuffled back up the stairs; Nacure however hid a laugh in a cough.

Mritha rubbed the scales around Odgne's nose horn. "What do we do now?" She asked.

"First and foremost, we confirm Surt's death." The dragon rumbled. "Then we must find and retrieve your heart. Lastly, we free the others that Surt has taken."

Mritha nodded. "This castle is easily defendable; I would rather stay here and work." She sighed. "It isn't like we have anywhere else to go."

"You are the lady of Castle Fallen then, the lord has been overthrown."

Mritha's fist clenched, her anger rising at the mention of him. Part of her was terrified that he might still be alive; part of her hoped he was just so she could satisfy her lust for vengeance. The black dragonlord tried to reign in her fury but only partly succeeded. It was so hard now to fight the rage and bitterness that was a constant in her heart. "Then we have a lot to get done." Her violet eyes glanced up to the top of the stairs where three necromancers stood warily watching her and Odgne. Mritha smiled, but it was not one of comfort or happiness to them. Their undead would be perfect to search the seas for a body…


End file.
